


Little Girl Lost

by sophielou21 (Scarlettpeony)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, F/M, Gen, Minor Violence, Not Beta Read, Original Character Death(s), Written during Series 3, non-canon, written before series end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:50:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlettpeony/pseuds/sophielou21
Summary: At the christening of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere’s daughter, Morgana blissfully declares that the child will be dead by the end of the week. Merlin must seek help from an unlikely source in order to prevent this from coming true. But is every ‘death’ final, or merely the passage to a new life?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Livejournal (LJ) 24-09-2011.
> 
> Written for the Help Fight Depression Auction for ella_rose88 (LJ) who requested a Merlin-verse fic based on the Doctor Who episode 6x07 ‘A Good Man Goes to War’. I have also borrowed a similar concept from Sleeping Beauty. The title of this fic was inspired by two poems by William Blake ‘A Little Girl Lost’ from Songs of Innocence and ‘The Little Girl Lost, The Little Girl Found’ from Songs of Inexperience.

It was being called the Age of Hope in Camelot.  
  
Although the king’s unconventional wife had not bore the kingdom a prince they were nonetheless filled with delight at the birth of the little girl. Immediately, the council and the people began to plan the christening. They wished it to be the most joyful day that could be mustered, a public holiday for all and sundry.  
  
The celebration lead and the desire to pay homage to the infant child and the queen led to everyone of high and low estate to descend on Camelot. The royalty, the nobility, the gentry, the merchant class, the artisans, and yes even the peasantry, lined the streets and filled the courtyard just to catch sight of the royal couple and the baby.  
  
They had called her Awena.  
  
Indeed, there were Bards from the north travelling to the city to seek inspiration and write high art for this brand new little muse, each one playing on the meaning of her name. _‘Sweet Awena, guiding spirit through Albion’s turmoil,’_ one bard sung on the long pilgrimage towards the city from Gwent in Cymru, _‘Surely it is she who inspires the good in all men’s heart.’_  
  
Of course people knew much of what was said was rather over-the-top considering the child was just a week old by the time the christening drew near.  
  
_‘[awena] faegersawol heorte to mann  
heo sy brytencwen tha sy blod to us...’_  
  
...that was the chant of the Druids and those who knew the language of magic. When Merlin heard it, it made him smile that his people were now free to serenade the new princess with a prayer of old. Many people, including the Bards, had forgotten that this holy language had not always been used for spells.  
  
Now they could remember again.  
  
‘She is the poetry of our hope,’ one bard concluded after the chant ended and _“...sothsegen!”_ replied the druid, reunited with the Bards in song for the first time since Uther Pendragon began his war on magic. Now Arthur allowed them to practise their religion openly, and that magic was permitted – although not fully condoned in all circumstances yet.  
  
Arthur was fair, and that was all most people who practised the Old Religion could ask. The only people who still had a problem with it were Morgana and Mordred, who wanted Morgana to be queen so she could basically make _the whole of Albion_ bow to her wishes by use of magic and Mordred, in particular, wanted all those who did not conform to what he considered to be ‘minimum’ capability in regards to magic, should be lumped into the same group as the ordinary people.  
  
No one by the most extreme people agreed with them, and they all skulked away in the depths of the Perilous Lands, still waiting to be liberated from torment by the great Emrys. That could only happen once he destroyed all three of them...  
  
Morgause had been awfully quiet recently. No mad statements from her, nor outlandish plans to bring down Merlin and Camelot since she parted ways with the gruesome twosome.  
  
Her silence worried Merlin more than Morgana’s grandstands by far.  
  
But nothing was going to ruin Awena’s christening, he told himself. Nothing.  
  
  
*  
  
  
“You don’t suppose it will affect her, do you?”  
  
Merlin turned to look at Awena lying in the cradle and Arthur leaning over her. She clutched to his forefinger with her tiny fist. Her other hand reached up to him happily, comforted by the sound of his voice but completely unaware of the concern that lay beneath it.  
  
Arthur was talking about the origins of his birth.  
  
Since he had discovered the truth of why his mother had died and the numerous betrayals his father had gone through in order to bring it about, then avenge it, and then prevent anyone from knowing the truth, he had wondered whether there wasn’t something _different_ about him as a result. It was magic that brought him into being; it was magic that created his life. All those years he had been the embodiment of everything his father supposedly hated.  
  
There had even been a time where Arthur resolved never to have children of his own. It was not just because of his doubts of being a father, but his fear that Gwen would be killed if she were to give birth to a child. This could happen to any woman and it had concerned Arthur each time he thought about their future together – but the discovery of his origins had only intensified this fear.  
  
Merlin considered all of this, and took a deep breath. “Gwen asked me the same question this morning,” the warlock said dimly.  
  
The truth was Gwen had embraced Arthur suggestion that they _should not_ have children when he first expressed this feeling. It wasn’t so much to do with the possibility that the origins of Arthur’s birth might affect the child, but the fear of what Morgana would do if she ever got her hands on Awena.  
  
_“We both know she wants the crown,_ Gwen had said to Merlin in confidence. _“She has a right to the throne and no one can take that away from her, no matter how much she is hated. This child – it will just be another obstacle to her..._  
  
Merlin had taken her hand.  
  
_“I will protect her,_ he promised her devoutly, _“I swear to my last breath, I shall defend Awena with my life.”_  
  
Arthur stood up straight, taking his finger away from his daughter. She still reached out for it, longing to get it back. It broke his heart to take it away from her even though it was only to directly address his friend and not through lack of desire to be with her...  
  
“What did you tell her?” he asked.  
  
Merlin swallowed, “That I don’t know for sure. There never has there been record of a 'child of magic' other than you, and certainly no theories for how it would affect their own children.”  
  
He walked slowly over to the cradle to look down on the princess. She was very small, smaller than he imagined most babies were. Gwen had delivered Awena a little early but she was healthy and strong. As he watched the way she punched her fists up, grasping for both of them with demand – it already reminded Merlin of Arthur.  
  
He smiled, “I don’t see why it would make any difference. It has never affected you.”  
  
Arthur glanced over at Merlin, pulling his eyes reluctantly away from his daughter.  
  
“You mean apart from inciting all my relatives to plot to murder me and my father?” he said sarcastically. When Merlin just looked at him with nothing to say in witty response, the king turned his eyes back to his daughter and sighed, “I was the root cause of so much pain...”  
  
Before Merlin could speak another voice rang through the room.  
  
“It was not you,” the queen said calmly. “It was your father – he is to blame, not you.”  
  
Arthur tuned to face Guinevere, his heart softened by her very presence as always. Merlin stepped to one side to admire them from afar as the queen took the king’s hands into hers and held them passionately.  
  
“Never be ashamed of what you are,” Gwen said softly. “None of us are responsible for us being here. But we are here, and that’s all that matters.”  
  
Arthur’s eyes grew heavy with emotion, and he freed one hand to cup her face gently.  
  
“You and Awena are here,” he said gruffly. “That’s all that matters to me.”  
  
Merlin watched like the spectator he was to his king’s family life as Gwen leaned into the cradle to pick up her small infant. She then turned to her husband and smiled with all the warmth that many years of love brought to any wife’s face.  
  
“The people are waiting,” she said confidently.  
  
Arthur nodded and turned to Merlin.  
  
“We had best go and greet them then.”  
  
  
*  
  
  
Awena was presented to the court, lying blissfully and peacefully in her royal cradle before the court like the princess of a fairy tale as numerous kings, princes, knights and ambassadors each presented gifts and congratulations to the child and her parents.  
  
The kings, dukes and lords presented their congratulations in person and had their servants present their gifts before the child, who cooed indifferently at each one and was far more interested in the succession of strange faces that were paraded before her, one after another.  
  
Then the knights stepped forward. Along with Merlin they had all consented to be godfathers and had, in true tradition, has a spoon fashioned for the princess – which they had voted collectively that Elyan should present the gift.  
  
He grinned as he handed it to Gwen, “We all chipped in. I even fashioned it himself; we were just so worried at how you would react to six separate spoons. Nothing is too good for my niece.”  
  
Guinevere chuckled, “It is much appreciated, Elyan.”  
  
Then the religious leaders stepped forward.  
  
There were three in all; the Bards, the Druids and the Vates.  
  
Each one of them was there to give the princess a charm each. It had once been traditional in the Old Religion to gift newborns with these charms, and for royalty it had been a necessity. So in compliance with the reintroduction of old customs, they began their presentations:  
  
Nuada, the leader of the Bards, presented the royals first with a book of the poetry they had all written on their way to Camelot (which King Arthur accepted awkward, not quite knowing what to say as he had never been a poetry reader). Then came the charm; he was led to the cradle side by the queen and began to speak the words:  
  
“Sweet Awena,” he began softly, so as not to startle her. “We the Bards were once the writers of spells and enchantments, as well as the original charms that are presented to you. Now our powers are reduced merely to that of telling stories. Therefore our gift to you is that of fine language...”  
  
_‘fram hire tunge beorht spræc cymth’_  
  
Emhear, the leader of the Vates, had only recently brought the Order back together. While the Druids remained the secretive leaders of the old ways and the Bards rebranded as poets, the Vates had either been wiped out or been forced to conform entirely under Uther’s regime. Emhear was a very old woman who had served under the Vates in the old days before fleeing abroad.  
  
With motherly tenderness she walked towards the cradle with a simple, kindly smile on her face.  
  
“Little Awena,” she said. “It once was the case that the Vates aided the Druids during religious ceremony. We were the soothsayers who aided people understand the world around them. We were the healers who cured the sick. We were the ones who carried out the sacrifices. There are many gifts that a Vate Godmother could gift a child, but the greatest one is wisdom...”  
  
_‘fram hire brægen god thohts cymth’_  
  
Iseldir, the leader of the Druids who had regained his former title as a High Priest, came forward to offer his thanks to the King and Queen of Camelot for their understanding and kindness to his people in allowing them to live at peace without fear of persecution.  
  
He stepped forward to address the monarchs and all those watching.  
  
“For many years we lived in fear for our lives,” Iseldir said with gloom, which quickly changed to cheer. “Now we are able to stand beside our fellow man and praise the dawning of this new age, the one my kind have waited a long time for; the time of the Once and Future King.”  
  
He nodded to Arthur.  
  
He then turned to Merlin, “I would also like to thank wise Emrys, who to my people embodies the power and the freedom with which magic should be used.”  
  
Merlin simply nodded in reply, unable to find apt words. Iseldir’s speech had already been quite humbling for everyone.  
  
He then turned to the crowd and beckoned forward a young boy.  
  
“With your permission I would like my nephew to present the princess with the charm,” Iseldir said, taking the boy by the shoulders and saying his name, “Galahad.”  
  
The child was just seven or eight years old but very polite and respectful as the queen came forward to lead him to the cradle. He stood in awe of her but bowed gracefully. As he was led over to the cradle he peered into it and watched the child for a moment. She had started to fall asleep from all the people looking in on her and barely noticed him.  
  
He sighed and began to speak.  
  
“Awena, the Druids were the—”  
  
Galahad’s words were almost immediately cut off as, in a burst of loud wind, the doors to the great hall swung open with an unholy crash and the tapestries shook above the courts’ heads. Outside the wind was just as strong, and knocked the commoners from side to side. Everyone tried to maintain their balance.  
  
Only Merlin seemed capable of standing defiant against the wind. He knew what was going. It might have seemed strong to everyone else but the magic behind it was painfully below him.  
  
Then it died down and, as he had expected, at the other end of the hall stood Morgana – looking like the bad fairy godmother from a fable. It was yet another grand-stand to add to her list, the warlock thought as he stared across the hall at her. He would see her off in no time...  
  
Rather than a horrified gasp, Arthur and Gwen remained silent. Merlin stepped forward and, before anyone had known what happened, he shot in a blur of the eyes to the centre of the hall to address her. He sounded more irritated than anything else.  
  
“What do you want?” Merlin said, simply.  
  
With the same blurring zoom, Morgana appeared right before him so that their faces were inches away from each other. It provoked another gasp from the audience. Her manner was as over-the-top as ever, sending shivers down the guests spines while making those who knew her skin crawl.  
  
“This is the christening of my niece, isn’t it?” she began with a general tone, as if the question had been a stupid and foolish one, as if she was here to play Awena’s loving aunt and present her with yet another spoon. “Elyan is here and she is his niece too,” she remarked, glancing at the knight in question. She then added sarcastically, “I felt rather offended out at not receiving an invitation...”  
  
Merlin cocked his head to one side.  
  
“Oh dear, were your precious little feelings hurt again?”  
  
“Don’t provoke me.”  
  
“Come now,” Merlin replied indifferently, before his tone began much more dark, “That might work on the defenceless villagers you force to do your dirty little deeds – but this is me we’re talking about. You don’t want to provoke _me_.”  
  
Morgana said nothing, but stepped back to create some distance between the two of them. They stood up straight, still defiant.  
  
“Say your peace and then be on your way,” Merlin told her.  
  
The witch looked around the room before glancing down the hall to address her brother and sister-in-law. Arthur seemed ready to kill at any moment while Gwen looked with a rare look of disgust.  
  
“It seems the whole of Albion turned out for this assembly, brother,” Morgana said mockingly. “It was very naive of all of you to think I wouldn’t drop in too. After all,” she went on, her eyes wandering over to the cot, “the child is of my blood.”  
  
...and of the same blood that entitled her to the throne of Camelot, swiftly becoming the throne of all of Albion from the way so many people turned out today to _crawl_ before Arthur and his damned baby. If she could have, Morgana would have gashed Awena’s brains out against the wall now.  
  
Her mental desire beckoned her to step forward...  
  
Merlin’s arm blocked her, again moving faster than the human eye could detect. It was an odd thing to watch even from afar. She could have slipped past him, but he would have caught her before she would ever reach Awena. Most of her magic was not her own, but stolen – some of it from Merlin himself. This is how she had acquired the speed she otherwise would not have had...  
  
But Merlin was the source of these abilities, and he would _always_ trump her at them all. So Morgana settled for now for being the thorn in his side. She would figure out a way to trap him eventually even if she couldn’t kill him...  
  
Morgana looked lazily up at him.  
  
“You don’t go anywhere near her,” he said firmly.  
  
She groaned, “Oh very well!”  
  
Morgana began to turn as if to leave. Merlin still kept his guard firmly up.  
  
“I can tell where I’m not wanted,” she muttered under her breath. “I’d best be on my way. I’d never come here with the intention of killing Awena, or any of you for that matter. Mordred will take care of it soon anyway—”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Merlin asked coldly.  
  
Morgana turned around, smirking as usual.  
  
“Oh, _now_ you want to know?” she said, almost teasing him. “Funny how often you presume to understand everything when really you’re just guessing. Any fool would have looked at this gathering and thought of the prophecies—”  
  
Annoyed by her put-on show, Merlin lost his temper. In one swift moment he had shoved her to the end of the hall and just outside in the antechamber, clutching her throat with his hand.  
  
The people gasped out loud a third time.  
  
“Enough of your games,” Merlin said gruffly, and slowly let go of her throat.  
  
Morgana stayed still, staring him in the eyes and noticing the proximity between them. She chuckled wickedly at it. “This is quite intimate, Merlin,” she whispered to him. They were so far away that no one in the hall could hear them. “All this fighting, isn’t it a pity we aren’t channelling all this passion into something more... productive?”  
  
“Enough,” Merlin barked.  
  
The dragonlord raged inside him. His sounded more like that of blazing fire than a mortal man. Had she provoked him anymore he might have ‘accidently’ growled for real and called the dragon right to the doors of Camelot.  
  
This was something Morgana definitely wanted to avoid.  
  
“Alright,” she said slowly. “Let me go; I’ll say what I came to say, and then leave.”  
  
Merlin moved his hand away completely.  
  
Another zoom and they were both back at the other end of the hall again. It was starting to make everyone dizzy, not least Arthur and Guinevere, the latter of whom and picked her daughter out of the cradle to shield her from any possible attack from Morgana.  
  
The moment Morgana reached the other end of the hall, where she was just five feet away from the king and queen, Arthur’s sword was drawn and pointing nervously close to her back. One move and she would be run through.  
  
He held Guinevere close to him with his other arm, determined to be the shield for both his wife and daughter should things begin that way here.  
  
Merlin too caught up with her the moment she appeared and stood to feet in front of her, ready to attack at the first wrong movement.  
  
But she made none and addressed the crowd malevolently.  
  
“Listen well,” she echoed through the hall, turning her body to circulate the one hundred and eighty degrees of her brother’s subjects before her. “Mordred is gathering an army of renegade sorcerers that are prepared to march on Camelot – by the end of the week, those of you who remain here will be caught up in an attack on the city.”  
  
She then moved, not towards the royal family, but back towards Merlin and turned to face them finally, looking Gwen in the eyes for she was the one holding the child.  
  
“By the end of this week, Awena will be dead,” she promised cruelly. “So says the prophecy, so we will make it happen.”  
  
Gwen’s only natural reaction was to clutch Awena all the tighter to her body. The baby started to cry, as if her mother’s fear radiated on her. “No,” she whispered weakly. “I’d die before I’d let either you or Mordred near her...”  
  
Arthur began to draw his sword.  
  
Morgana raised her eyebrows, paying no heed to her brother and all of it to her sister-in-law and niece. “I’m sure you will, Gwen; the more of you here that die, the better it’ll be for me.”  
  
“It’s been two years since Uther died and all you still think about is your hate for him?” Merlin questioned pitilessly.  
  
“I am his daughter,” Morgana retorted with anger. “I am owed what should have always been mine.” And she pointed viciously at her brother, “ _He_ shouldn’t even be here in the first place. He’s nothing more than... _a freak of nature_. He is a life that should never have been.”  
  
Arthur narrowed his eyes. “You really think you’re going to get to me this way?”  
  
“It’s still a fact, isn’t it brother?” Morgana said cruelly, and she smiled in her disturbingly unhinged manner. “If you had never been born then _all_ these people would have been spared thirty years of torment and _I_ would have been given what is rightfully mine!”  
  
Gwen couldn’t help herself at this moment.  
  
“It would never have been yours,” the queen said, managing to hide her fear as she held her daughter very well. “Uther wanted _a son_ ; a son that was his and Ygraine’s. Your father loved you... but he would never have given you the throne of Camelot. You were not what he wanted.”  
  
The witch’s blood boiled.  
  
“And your daughter,” Morgana said slowly, threateningly. “Is she what you and Arthur _really_ wanted?”  
  
Gwen stared definitely into Morgana’s eyes. The longer this went on, the easier it became.  
  
“I thought you and Arthur weren’t going to have children,” the witch finished.  
  
Merlin was so distracted with watching the queen at that moment it allowed for Morgana to zoom her way back to the doors of the hall. He immediately span around as he felt her go and stared down the long aisle again as she spouted her villainy at Arthur, Gwen and the whole hall one last time.  
  
“You should have kept your word about never having children, little brother,” she crowed with a satisfied grin, “I still have a right to the throne.” At this point her voice became darker, more embittered. “I am still a queen-in-exile. That crown on your wife’s head is still mine... and if I have to kill both you and your little runt daughter in order to lift it from her lifeless head, then so be it. As far as I’m concerned Awena is just another obstacle I have to overcome.”  
  
She turned to Merlin, ignoring the look of pure unadulterated hate from Camelot’s monarchs.  
  
“Don’t try to follow me,” Morgana said with a smirk. “You’ll want to set up your defences here because before this week is out, we’ll be back to kill the girl.”  
  
Merlin glared at her, “Hell will rise before I let that happen.”  
  
She tilted her head, “Then it shall rise. Goodbye.”  
  
Then with a blaze of wind and violent flaps of her cloaks, Morgana faded loudly and slowly away into thin area. Once she was gone the great hall fell quiet again and everyone was so speechless that not another sound was uttered for a long pause.  
  
Iseldir stepped forward.  
  
Arthur was clutching his wife to him, comforting her as she held their daughter to her bosom. She had stopped crying now, also feeling safe in the mutual grasp of her mother and father. Gwen leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder, refusing to let herself cry in confusion. It would not help in saving Awena.  
  
They both looked to the Druid Elder.  
  
This was their signal to him to let him speak.  
  
“Your majesties,” he bowed. “Although it is against our beliefs to engage in warfare I hereby pledge the loyalty of the Druidic Order to you both. We may not warriors but we can summon powerful magic to defend the castle from these renegades.”  
  
Galahad stepped forward, “I can fight—“  
  
But his uncle placed his hand on his shoulder to stop him and pull him back.  
  
Iseldir went on, “It is our duty to protect innocent people from Mordred. He is still one of our kind and he is abusing his powers by allying with renegades.”  
  
At that moment Emhear came forward.  
  
“We Vates on the other hand are not against warfare,” she said menacingly. “The witch Morgana brings shame to every seer in our Order. You can be certain that they will not fight fairly and use magical weapons, so we will enchant the swords of your army.”  
  
She nodded to Merlin with respect.  
  
“I promise you that I personally will fight to the death if need be to protect the child,” she concluded.  
  
Everyone then looked to Nuada. He swallowed nervously, “We just write poems... but anything we can do to help, of course.”  
  
“You can help with the enchantments,” Emhear said firmly.  
  
Merlin replied to all three with gratitude, “I will work with all of you make sure our magic holds Mordred. It won’t hold forever but it will bide us time. We have to remember that he is a Druid—”  
  
“And a Vate,” Galahad suddenly said.  
  
Everyone looked to the outspoken boy. He was initially shy but he went on once he saw the curiosity in the queen’s eyes. “He and I were raised as brothers—”  
  
“Galahad,” Iseldir whispered.  
  
The boy turned to him, “They have to hear this, uncle.”  
  
He looked back to the royal family and Merlin.  
  
“Mordred was a foundling child,” Galahad explained. “My parents took him in before I was born. His mother had abandoned him. We don’t know why but we assume it was because his magic frightened his parents. Even as a baby he had strange powers to... move objects with his mind, to sense people’s emotions, to—do all sorts of things that are extremely rare in sorcerers, especially from birth. They are all very desirable to our people.”  
  
Merlin sighed sadly. “Just like me when I was younger.”  
  
Galahad smiled despite himself, “My mother was a Vate—well, she still is—and she taught us both Vate magic. You won’t be able to hold him out for long, eventually he will find a way to break through our barriers.”  
  
“Then I must back it up with my own magic,” Merlin declared with darkness in his voice. “Morgana may have stolen some of my powers over the years but I still have more inner strength than any sorcerer alive. It will take the whole combined strength of an army to overpower me.”  
  
There was brief silence.  
  
It was broken by Guinevere.  
  
“But what happens then?” she said frailly, still holding her silently sleeping baby. “Do we stay inside this castle forever and hide? You know Mordred will never give up until all of us are dead. He’s like her – only worse. Morgana is mad, but he is perfectly sane. He is just cruel.”  
  
“A match made in heaven,” Arthur grumbled under his voice.  
  
Gwen looked up at her husband anxiously. “Arthur, you know about the prophecy, don’t you?”  
  
“Of course I do,” he said slowly. “And if I die in the process of protecting my kingdom and my family, then so be it. But I fail to see how this applies to Awena.”  
  
A tiny breeze picked up and settled, as if an open window had just seeping in a tiny gust from outside. But all the windows were closed. Yet no one paid heed to the wind or the sudden appearance of a young woman right in the middle of the hall.  
  
No one noticed her at all until she spoke:  
  
“There is a lion, a mortal king but great he be,  
Shall return from exile to reclaim his land  
And hope to terra firma, and set it free.  
His sire failed and fell, for at his hand  
A fair lady of the grand played a victim  
To a double deception from old and him;  
She is the first victim of his terrible sin,  
For a lion cub that is solely our kin;  
The sacrificial lamb, the cause is thee...”  
  
All eyes turned to towards this voice. Its owner was quite young, no older than twenty and she wore a red and white hood that completely covered her hair. Her robes were loose fitted and hung right down to the floor in several layers. She looked like a young Sister or Priestess. She was a very pretty looking girl.  
  
“Who are you?” Arthur was the first to ask.  
  
The girl stared up at him with a soft, friendly smile but made no attempt to reply to his second questions, instead focusing on the first. “That verse which I just quoted comes from the _Red Book_ ,” she explained. “It was written by Taliesin on the subject of the ‘Once and Future King’.”  
  
Arthur stared, “What has this to do with Awena?”  
  
“Does that matter?” the girl replied. “The point is that there are prophecies out there and the one that says your daughter will be killed by the end of this week is just one of many.”  
  
“So it might not come true,” the king said, more confused that hopeful.  
  
“I didn’t say that, my lord,” the girl said. “It just means that the prophecy may not be all that it seems. One thing I know for certain is that nothing will keep Mordred out. Not even Emrys can hold him off in the end—not because he’s more powerful, but because he believes that Awena must die, and so she shall.”  
  
Gwaine, who had remained silent until this point, stepped forward on behalf of the other confused knights. “What are you saying?”  
  
The girl spun around to face him. Almost immediately they were all floored by her beautiful, huge dark eyes.  
  
“Never underestimate the power of self-fulfilling prophecy,” she said simply.  
  
She looked to Merlin. The pair stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. All he thought about was who she might be. She had literally appeared out of nowhere. No one in the hall knew her. Merlin had checked every guest before they came in. She was clearly a sorceress – and her clothes suggested she belonged to an order – but she came with none.  
  
Then Gwen asked the question that was burrowed away inside his mind.  
  
“What is your name?”  
  
“Ganieda, your majesty,” the girl said, smiling to the queen.  
  
Merlin drew her attention back with a stern tone. “Where did you come from? You didn’t enter this hall with the other guests. Why did you come here, who are you?”  
  
Ganieda held out her hand.  
  
“Touch me,” she ordered him.  
  
Any normal person would have been apprehensive about this but Merlin obeyed the order. It was true that his overbearing power gave him the confidence to confront even the most powerful of sorcerers without any fear for what might happen. He knew he could twist the situation around in his favour even if worse came to worse. It was what he did.  
  
He reached out to touch Ganieda’s hand. As he did, his grasp fell through her and he quickly realised it was impossible to hold her hand or feel her.  
  
He looked her in the eyes. “Who are you?”  
  
“I am the spirit of the yet to come,” Ganieda said simply. Her manner remained calm and cool as everyone at caught stared at her cautiously. She went on, addressing Merlin with a quiet whisper so no one else could hear, “I come from the future and now, just for a brief moment, I have appeared to give you some advice.”  
  
He raised his eyebrows.  
  
“That’s impossible,” Merlin replied darkly.  
  
“Emrys,” Ganieda grinned. “You know better than to make such assumptions.”  
  
The way she used his ‘other’ name struck Merlin slightly. He knew better these days than to trust any attractive young sorceresses claiming to be a friend. History had taught him they were usually trouble. Yet he humoured this young woman.  
  
“What advice do you have for us?” he said sceptically.  
  
The woman glanced behind him at the king and queen, still clutching their child to them with defensive devotion. Guinevere in particular watched Ganieda would a mixture of caution and curiosity. There was something about this girl she didn’t understand. It was something that made her feel that she should trust her and yet made her feel uneasy.  
  
Arthur was somewhat more aloof, but even he felt taken in by the apparent enchantress.  
  
There was a shine in Ganieda’s eyes.  
  
Her eyes then fell on the by Galahad, “Give him the gift you wished to give to the princess.”  
  
Galahad blushed and looked to his uncle for permission. Iseldir nodded, and so the boy slowly produced long golden chain from the folds of his robes. As it unravelled before the court it was revealed that a shining protective charm hung at the end of it.  
  
He placed it in his palm and showed it to Merlin.  
  
Ganieda made a soft, well-meaning smile that let everyone’s guard down a little.  
  
“I wish to present the new princess with a bulla*,” Galahad explained nervously. Merlin could sense the protective magic on it from where it hung five inches from his face. “They are always presented to children amongst my people.”  
  
He drizzled the charm and chain gently into Merlin’s own palm. It felt warm with goodness. It was comforting to feel this rare type of magic that had clearly been crafted and bound with loving care.  
  
He looked at the charm; on one side it had runic symbols on it. Being well reversed in the magic runes after years of studying magic he knew exactly what it said: ‘AWENA’. The other side was blank.  
  
Ganieda explained, “Magic is woven into the very being of the bulla. We believe that as long as a child wears it, no harm will ever come to them.”  
  
Merlin closed his fingers over it.  
  
A jolt shot through his body.  
  
He didn’t understand why.  
  
“Ensure Awena wears this around her neck always,” Ganieda told him. Her deep brown eyes crept straight into Merlin’s soul, and all he could do was nod slowly. She nodded back, “As long as she wears it, she will be safe and you will always be able to find her.”  
  
Even as he held it he could feel the power binding him to Awena. She was very close by, cradled in Gwen’s arms. It was so warm and sweet...  
  
Merlin cleared his throat, “You came all the way from the future to tell us this?”  
  
“No, as I said,” Ganieda went on. “I also came to give you all advice for the battle to come.”  
  
The queen stepped immediately took note of the girl’s words. Still carrying her infant, she walked down the throne steps to approach her. As could be expected Arthur followed a step behind her.  
  
“Let her speak,” Guinevere declared.  
  
Ganieda took a deep breath. “You’re not going to like it, but please hear me out.”  
  
“Go on,” the king said, as an order.  
  
She looked around the hall at the different magical orders, at Merlin, at the king and queen, and finally down at the tiny princess. She smiled with interest before she swallowed a faint concealed emotion and said what she came to say.  
  
“Merlin’s magic is strong,” Ganieda began. “If he creates a protective charm with the help of the Vates, the Bards and the Druids... that will keep even a thousand strong army out. But you must ensure that everyone take refuge inside the castle.”  
  
Arthur nodded his head to one side.  
  
“Thank you,” he said a little unconvinced. “That goes without saying—”  
  
“But you cannot keep them out indefinitely,” Ganieda said darkly. She looked into Gwen’s eyes with sympathy, “You said it yourself. Mordred won’t give up. He will besiege the castle forever... and you don’t have forever.”  
  
She looked back to Arthur.  
  
“You must ready yourself for a hard and painful time,” she warned carefully. “But that’s not all. You must send Merlin to seek the help of another powerful sorcerer, someone who hates Mordred just as much as you do.”  
  
Merlin stepped forward.  
  
“Tell me who it is and I will find them.”  
  
Ganieda looked over her shoulder at him, prepared for an angered reaction, “Morgause.”  
  
The reaction was as could be expected. Most recoiled in disgust while others rolled their eyes at the ridiculousness of the suggestion. Arthur was one of the latter. He even laughed in a low hysterical while shaking his head.  
  
“There is no way in hell I am letting that harpy anywhere near my daughter,” he finally declared, his tone shifting from hysteria to dark determination. “Calling on her aid is out of the question. Even if she agrees to fight Mordred, I won’t have my daughter be an excuse for her petty revenge.”  
  
“I’m not saying you bring her here,” the girl said calmly. “I’m saying that she will have vital knowledge about the prophecies... knowledge that even the Three Orders don’t know. She was trained by the high priestesses and still owns many books and writings on the matter.”  
  
Arthur still seemed reluctant.  
  
But Gwen’s attention had been caught. She turned to address her husband and spoke as gently and smoothly as she could manage given everything that had happened today. “We need not even bring her over Camelot’s boarders. If we send Merlin with two or so knights over Odin’s boarders...”  
  
Emhear stepped forward, “It just so happens I returned from giving her a peace offering just before coming here. I can assure you that she is still at her hideout.”  
  
Merlin turned back to address Ganieda.  
  
“What if I call on the Great Dragon?”  
  
Her tone was firm, “Would you taint the Dragon by entreating him to do to your enemies as he had once done to Camelot?”  
  
He understood what she meant. The dragon’s gifts should be used to aid the cause of good, not simply engulf the cause of evil. Nonetheless he would keep his old friend in mine; although Merlin decided there and then not to turn him on Mordred’s renegades, he hoped the sight of the last dragon would frighten some of them to flee the battlefront.  
  
As if she was reading his mind, Ganieda smiled and nodded. “Good thinking, Emrys,” she told him. “There are very few men in Mordred and Morgana’s faction willing to actually _die_ for them.”  
  
Her instinct about his mind gave Merlin goosebumps.  
  
“But even then, keep it as a last resort,” Ganieda finished.  
  
Meanwhile Gwen continued her appeal to Arthur, who was still uncertain about sending Merlin to seek Morgause’s help. “I don’t want to do it anymore than you do,” Gwen admitted after a while, comforting Awena as she awoke again and began to whimper. “But this woman clearly knows things—”  
  
“Exactly,” Arthur said, turning his head to look harshly on Ganieda. “If you know so much then why don’t you give us the information we need yourself? What does Morgause know that you don’t?”  
  
Ganieda sighed, “Just because I know the future doesn’t mean I have studied every last detail. All I can tell you is that Morgause knows something that all of you, and Mordred and Morgana, don’t know.”  
  
“So you’re basically saying we have no choice,” Gwen said, taking this to be Ganieda’s meaning.  
  
The sorceress smiled, “Your majesty, there are always choices.”  
  
Arthur paced back towards his throne. The others watched him from afar as he walked up the chairs to glance into the empty cradle.  
  
“Merlin,” he said under his breath. “If I were to send you, how long would it take?”  
  
“Two days to get there,” Merlin replied bluntly. “I cannot transport there as I have no attachment to the place. However I can transport myself, and any other knights, home again afterward.”  
  
Arthur turned to his wife and slowly asked her, “What do you think?”  
  
Gwen looked down at the baby she held in her arms before replying. “I would walk to see Morgause myself if she knew something that could protect our daughter from those monsters.”  
  
A sad smile briefly crossed the king’s lips. It then quickly returned to a monarch’s restrained frown as he addressed Merlin. “Then I give you permission to go,” he told the warlock. “Merlin, before you go I want you to help the Three Orders prepare the defences. Gwaine and Lancelot will go with you. I want the three of you back as soon as possible – I would send other knights but I cannot spare them. Leon, Percival, Elyan and the other knights will remain here with me to prepare for the renegades’ arrival.”  
  
Merlin looked over at Gwaine and Lancelot, who both simply nodded at the king’s orders.  
  
Arthur then walked back towards his wife and carefully took the baby from her arms. He still seemed a little nervous when he held her. He seemed overly careful with Awena cradled against her.  
  
“We must prepare the castle for siege...”  
  
Merlin and turned back to Ganieda.  
  
“What exactly am I supposed to be asking Morgause about—?”  
  
But to no one’s surprise, she had vanished.


	2. Chapter 2

As Merlin packed Galahad knocked gently on the door to his chambers and entered slowly when the warlock called him to come in. He looked up from his bag and smiled politely; he wasn’t really in the mood to speak to anyone, let alone a young boy.  
  
Still, he did not complain.  
  
“Can I help you, young man?” Merlin asked, sounding very much the elder. Even he was aware of the tone adopted, and it made him feel a tad foolish. He was no so old, after all.  
  
But Galahad did not seem to notice, as he was very used to everyone taking this tone with him, and he carefully approached the warlock with every ounce of respect.  
  
“Emrys,” the boy began. “I have something important to tell you.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
Galahad cleared his throat. “My mother is a seer and she told me before I left with my uncle that when I saw you, I should tell you something. She said it would help you in the trials to come.”  
  
This gained ‘Emrys’s’ attention.  
  
He leaned over Galahad to address him.  
  
“Your mother foresaw this?”  
  
The child shrugged, “I don’t know what she saw exactly. All I do know is that she wanted me to tell you this, although it doesn’t make sense to me...”  
  
Merlin nodded, and waited for Galahad to tell him.  
  
“She said, ‘Her original name was Anna,’” was all the boy said, clearly confused by his own words as he said them. Galahad shook his head and turned to Merlin again, “She said that would be important to you, Emrys.”  
  
“Your mother’s name was Anna?” the warlock asked in confusion. How could that be relevant?  
  
Galahad smirked, “No, Emrys. My mother’s name is Enid. No, she just told me to tell you those words. ‘Her original name was Anna.’”  
  
Merlin smiled. “Thank you...”  
  
“Galahad,” the boy replied.  
  
The warlock nodded again, “Thank you, Galahad.”  
  
  
*  
  
  
The journey towards Morgause’s hideaway in Odin’s kingdom was a very quiet one. No trouble, no fuss and very little said between the three men. Gwaine and Lancelot had quite rightly judged that Merlin was not in the mood to talk and instead preferred to stay within his own thoughts. He was thinking about Ganieda, and why she had travelled back from the future to deliver a necklace and this cryptic message.  
  
He felt he could trust her despite not knowing her yet experience had taught him never to believe anyone completely. Just in case this whole thing turned out to be a trap Merlin was more than prepared to face down with Morgause in a sorcerer’s duel.  
  
Meanwhile he half-listened to the occasional mutterings between Gwaine and Lancelot. They tried to avoid talking about the task at hand and instead spoke of domestic things. Apparently there was a leak in their chambers and they needed to get someone in to fix it.  
  
“I could give it a bash,” Gwaine suggested jokily.  
  
Lancelot rolled his eyes, “We want the hole fixed, Gwaine. Not made bigger!”  
  
“That’s just unfair!”  
  
“No, it’s true,” the sombre knight uttered. “It is the tragic truth of nature that every problem Sir Gwaine comes into contact with becomes a crisis.”  
  
Gwaine burst out laughing, “That’s a cheek coming from a man who doesn’t even think before flinging himself in to any said crisis.”  
  
“At least I don’t go to bed every night _praying_ for a crisis.”  
  
“Liar, you love excitement just as much as I do.”  
  
“I think you love yourself a little more.”  
  
“You _pray_ every night for a crisis so you can distract yourself from how bored you get when I’m not around you...”  
  
“There goes your ego!” Lancelot shook his head, although he was smiling. “What were we talking about?”  
  
“The leak,” Gwaine told him.  
  
They shared chambers, of course, though why was anyone’s guess. Probably because one of them picked the short straw, although it was debatable which one it was. The ‘domestic bliss’ was comforting for Merlin to listen to on the first day of travelling.  
  
“How far is it now?” Lancelot asked Merlin when they were forced to stop for the night. This was the closest they came to talking about why they were travelling to Morgause’s lair.  
  
“Not far,” Merlin assured him. “Arthur and I went there many years ago. It was the first time Arthur found out about his mother.”  
  
Lancelot nodded, “But Uther managed to lie his way out of it?”  
  
Merlin swallowed guiltily, “I was the one who lied. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t but... Arthur was devastated and I couldn’t have let him... go through with what he nearly did.”  
  
It was odd but he still felt bound by the promise Uther made him take all those years ago, despite the fact that the late king had been dead for two and a half years. He partly didn’t want to admit to anyone else how close Arthur came to killing his own father. It mirrored Morgana’s own reaction to discovering Uther’s lies so closely it scared him.  
  
Yet while killing Uther would probably have left Morgana feel dangerously unsatisfied, Arthur would have been destroyed. They were both clearly Uther’s children – but that gentleness inside the younger brother was what set him apart from his deranged older sister.  
  
The best analogy to describe the Pendragon family was to liken them to a tree baring two kinds of fruit the sweet and the sour.  
  
Merlin wondered which Awena would be. He imagined she _has_ to take after Arthur, from than her aunt or grandfather. Given too that Guinevere was her mother Merlin felt confident that the girl would take after her parents’ varied yet oddly matching personalities. A child of those two couldn’t help but have a good heart.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Guinevere sat cross-legged on her bed, cradling her daughter in her arms once again. After the events of the day she had asked for the princess’s cot to be brought into the royal bedchamber so that the Queen could watch over her personally. Naturally the nurses had protested that she needed to rest but such a thought was unthinkable to Gwen.  
  
Greedily Awena suckled on her mother’s milk.  
  
The mother clutched her daughters wiggling wrists gently between her two fingers. There was a huge lump in her throat as she watched her baby drink. The thought of anything happening to her was so unbearable that as soon as she thought about it, Gwen’s mind blotted it away again.  
  
Arthur watched from across as he dismissed his manservant and readied himself for bed. He had spent the last day sending out the order for all subjects of Camelot to take refuge inside the citadel immediately and for the city gates to be closed by tomorrow morning. That was when the Druids, Vates and Bards sealed Merlin’s defences and locked them in the castle completely.  
  
There had been a lot to prepare. The great hall was used to accommodate people. A register had to be taken of everyone who was in the castle so they could tell who in the kingdom was taking refuge with them and who wasn’t. The king had sent orders that everyone should take all food and produce with them to ensure there was nothing the enemy could steal. The renegade sorcerers were known not to carry much food and their best hope was to starve Mordred into leaving. All supplies the people brought with them had to be taken, counted and put aside to last them as long as possible.  
  
It reminded Arthur so much of the siege on Camelot when Cenred had attacked them. More aptly, it reminded him of when the immortal army attacked them. There was no knowing what tricks these renegades would pull to achieve their goal at killing Awena.  
  
Arthur swallowed a lump of his own.  
  
He could not admit even to Gwen how frightened he was. It made him feel hopeless to admit even for a second that he might not be capable of protecting his own wife and child.  
  
He slowly walked over and sat beside them on the bed. Gwen looked up at him, unable to mask the anxiety in her eyes. Arthur could only just about manage to keep a reassuring face to keep her comforted. He still could not bring himself to face up to the impossible task ahead of them. The shields set up by the Druids, the Vates, the Bards and Merlin was strong... but they would have to find a way to get rid of Mordred or starve in their own safe haven.  
  
They both looked down at Awena. She was asleep.  
  
“Everything that happened today,” Arthur whispered huskily, “and she is none the wiser.”  
  
“That’s how it should be,” Gwen said sadly. “She shouldn’t ever have a care in the world.”  
  
Her eyes were bleary from trying to hold back tears all night. She needed to hold it back now more than ever, not just for the sake of her daughter’s sleep but so as not to put the burden of what was happening squarely on her husband’s shoulders alone.  
  
“I’m so scared for her,” she muttered.  
  
Arthur reached forward to brush strands of her uncombed hair to one side in a calmly and gentle movement. “I know you are,” he said firmly. “But we don’t know for certain that Morgana’s threats had anything to them—”  
  
Gwen scoffed, “Morgana’s gloating was enough to tell us that the threat is real.”  
  
She turned back to him.  
  
“Mordred has one of the darkest souls I have ever encountered in a person,” Gwen said distantly, thinking on the few times she had come face to face with the druid boy who was now a young man, “Darker than Morgause, or Morgana, or even your father towards the end of his life. There is not even a bit of greyness in there. It’s just dark. It’s more than dark, in fact. He’s just a void.”  
  
Arthur sighed. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders to bring both mother and child closer to him. Gwen leaned her head against his and closed her eyes to take in the soft murmur of his neck pulse. Although soft, it was quick and nervous.  
  
“He must have had a hard life,” Gwen added thoughtfully.  
  
“Don’t you dare go making excuses for him,” Arthur said, laughing rather than saying it with a serious tone. “It’s just like you to try and understand the enemy.”  
  
“I’m not trying to understand him at all,” Gwen replied bluntly. “I’m just saying that whatever happened to him, it must have been hard... so hard he was too weak-minded to rise above it. Just like Morgana.”  
  
Even as she said those words she felt a tinge of guilt. All the times she had known Mordred he had merely been a young boy. When she first met him he couldn’t have been anymore than eight-years-old, and then when she met him again he was a pubescent child. Yet whatever had happened to him between those years in between, he had fallen so far that he felt the only way to claw back up was through sinister plots and devious deceptions.  
  
The thing that made Gwen the most unnerved was the level of control Mordred had over the people around him. She didn’t know whether it was the magic or some unseen charisma, but the control he had over Morgana was absolute. So much so that he had pried her away from Morgause’s apron-strings and then removed the elder sorceress from his new side-kick’s life completely.  
  
Yes, although just a boy barely on the verge on manhood, Mordred was very much the more powerful of the two of them. Morgana hung on his every word and he indulged her madness, using it to both bottle her and make her feel wanted. Morgause had found herself in Uther and Arthur’s shoes as Morgana cast her aside, and Mordred ensured that there was no time for second thoughts.  
  
It was nonetheless a very Morgana thing to do; to chuck away what mattered to her for the sake of something better or more beneficial for her personally.  
  
Arthur kissed Gwen’s forehead.  
  
“He’s not a child anymore,” the king said soothingly. “We did all we could for him but he chose the wrong side and now he takes the cowardly route of threatening my daughter rather than confronting me. If I ever see him again, I will kill him.”  
  
Gwen buried her head under his neck, causing her reply to be muffled. “If anything happens to you because of that damned prophecy—”  
  
“It won’t because _I_ don’t believe in it,” Arthur said firmly.  
  
He pulled her up to look her in the eyes.  
  
“It’s like Ganieda said,” Arthur assured her with determination. “The only thing that can hurt me is the self-fulfilling prophecy. The future is subjective to change and I believe that more than I believe Mordred will kill me.”  
  
He cupped her cheek.  
  
“And I need you to start believing in that again too,” he finished.  
  
Gwen nodded sadly, “I just hate not feeling in control.”  
  
Arthur chuckled lowly. “Don’t we all? Look, haven’t you always told me that life is determined by choices and that prophecies are only believed by people unwilling to make the choice.”  
  
She smiled for the first time that night. “That’s not my exact wording but... I see what you mean.”  
  
They both looked down at Awena, who remained asleep and content in her mother’s arms the whole time, still unaware of the danger hanging over her head.  
  
“You should probably place her in her cradle,” Arthur told his wife.  
  
Gwen nodded slowly but made no attempt to get up and slowly take her to the cot just a few feet away. “I just can’t bring myself to let her go,” she said weakly. “It’s almost like, if I do let her go, I might wake up tomorrow and find she’s not there.”  
  
Arthur touched the bulla around Awena’s neck. He was not sure of the true power of this object but Ganieda has proved herself to be no threat to him or his family. He believed the bulla would protect his daughter.  
  
“Then I will stay awake and watch her,” he promised Gwen. “You need to sleep.”  
  
“No, _you_ need to,” Gwen protested. “You have to organise the defence of the castle—”  
  
“Guinevere,” Arthur said firmly but tenderly, gaining her attention straight away. “It is not very often I ask, or even expect, you to obey a suggestion from your husband—but please obey this one. Either we both stay awake, or you sleep. I want your mind to be at rest.”  
  
He slowly took Awena from his wife’s arms and carefully stood up. He then pulled the cradle even closer to the bed and placed the baby into its rocking embrace. Not once did she stir.  
  
  
*  
  
  
They arrived at Morgause’s hideaway early next morning.  
  
Merlin led the two knights across the shallow late and behind the thin waterfall towards the ruined castle that lay behind. Upon reaching the other side and viewing the draft old fortress before them, Gwaine stopped dead. He knew of this place.  
  
“It’s Tintagel,” he told them. “It used to belong to a Duke named Hoel. He lost all his wealth in the wars against Vortigern, the dictator of Camelot before it was won back by the royal house at Gwynedd. Hoel never regained his fortune so the castle fell into disrepair. My father knew the Duke’s son. His name was—”  
  
“Gorlois,” Merlin finished for him, turning to face Gwaine, “He was Morgause’s father.”  
  
Lancelot tilted his head, “I always wondered who her mother was.”  
  
“I don’t know,” the warlock said with a shake of his head. “It certainly wasn’t his wife.”  
  
They slowly rode towards the entrance and walked up the side stairs into what was once presumably a small courtyard. Everything was dead quiet and there was no sign of life.  
  
“Shall we split up?” Lancelot asked.  
  
“No,” Merlin said. “Stay with me. We don’t know how she will react.”  
  
Taking this as a hint that trouble could spring out at them – if not Morgause herself then one of those annoying bloodguards –the two knights withdrew their swords and followed Merlin up the stairs, into the rest of the castle. There was little of the castle that remained. Most of it was just an empty shell which, Merlin imagined, must be very inconvenient for Morgause when it rained...  
  
They walked slowly into the small hall where the altar and the magic crystals stood. Last time Merlin was there it had been filled with glowing candles, but now they all stood unlit as the morning light shone down on their heads. It made the place seem less unearthly and more like a pile of old forgotten rock.  
  
“Where do you think she is?” Gwaine muttered.  
  
Merlin looked around the cold, forgotten room. He closed his eyes and tried to sense a presence, hear a thought, to feel anything that might tell him of any danger approaching them. There was nothing.  
  
He opened his eyes and sighed.  
  
“Let’s look back here,” Merlin said quickly.  
  
He pointed towards one of the few sheltered areas in sight. He strode towards the dark arch was, picking up a candle as he went. With a flash of his eyes Merlin lit the surrounding candles, picked one up and looked about the room. Inside there was a chest of draws, a stone desk and a moth-eaten curtain behind which stood a flight of stairs heading up to the tower above.  
  
Merlin turned to his two friends.  
  
“You two look through this,” he said, indicating the desk. “I’ll check up here...”  
  
“Do you want one of us to come with you?” Gwaine asked.  
  
Merlin shook his head.  
  
“I’ll be fine.”  
  
Unflinchingly, he walked up the small stone steps. Gwaine and Lancelot watched until the glow of his candle disappeared. They then followed their orders and began to search through the draws of the desk. Upon trying them all they discovered that all but one was stuck closed from age and wear. The one that was not opened quite easily, filled with papers and an old leather book.  
  
Gwaine pointed to a shelf of books on the other side of the room.  
  
“Have a look over there,” he told Lancelot, picking up the notebook. “I’ll have a look through these.”  
  
Lancelot walked over to the shelves of books and took them off to analyse them, one by one. Many of them were dusty and covered in cobweb. Almost immediately he decided he would not find anything worth finding there. Nonetheless he carried on regardless of this feeling. Most of the books were magical and more or less unreadable to him. Most of them were about prophecies and spells, it seemed.  
  
 _They might be worth something to Merlin,_ he thought.  
  
He picked up another worn book with a black and red spine. With no title on the front or the side, Lancelot opened the book up to see whether the contents were vaguely legible to him. That was when he saw the title page and realised what he was holding.  
  
“Gwaine,” he called over to his friend, holding the book aloft. “Look at this.”  
  
Gwaine had been reading the notebook with great interest. Using his finger to mark the page he was reading, he held the book to his chest and walked over to Lancelot to see what he was looking at and the other knight showed him the title page:  
  
‘RÉODBÓC’  
  
“Hm,” Gwaine muttered with interest.  
  
Lancelot nodded, “Exactly. It doesn’t take a sorcerer to work out what that says. This is the ‘Red Book’.”  
  
  
*  
  
  
There was heavy knocking at the bedroom door.  
  
Arthur and Gwen leapt out of their skins. The queen had been feeding her baby in silence while the king watched before that happened. Now the noise had caused Awena to be wrenched from her supper and she howl in distress. Gwen tried to comfort her while Arthur hurried to the door, sensing the urgency of whoever was banging behind it.  
  
He opened to find Elyan standing there.  
  
“You need to come and see this,” he said anxiously, and glanced over his shoulder to his sister. “One of the servants has been found dead.”  
  
“Dead?” the king muttered in confusion. “I thought you had come to say the army had arrived.”  
  
Elyan shook his head. “There’s no sign of Mordred and the harpy yet. This servant was just found by me and Percival while we were doing the rounds.”  
  
“Well, what happened to—”  
  
Arthur looked over shoulder at his wife and began distracted. Gwen rocked the weeping Awena in her arms but comforting her proved a lot harder than usual. She could definitely sense the fear in her mother’s blood...  
  
He turned back to Elyan, “I’ll be right there.”  
  
He then addressed his wife, who was stood up and clearly ready to follow.  
  
“You should stay here,” the king told her.  
  
“I want to come with you,” she said shakily, clutching the weeping baby.  
  
Arthur walked up to her and clasped her shoulders lovingly. “You don’t want to take our daughter to a death scene.”  
  
“I may be a mother and a queen,” Gwen said firmly, gaining control over her voice finally. “But I also know a thing or two about nursing. It is my duty to discover how this man died.”  
  
Elyan stepped forward. “You don’t need a nurse to figure that one out. The back of his head is gushing like a fountain.”  
  
Arthur’s eyes widened. “So this was a murder?”  
  
“It seems so,” Elyan nodded. He pointed anxiously towards the door, “Percival is waiting for us—”  
  
Gwen hushed her baby soothingly before speaking out. “But there are hundreds of people taking refuge in the castle. It could have been any of them.”  
  
Another knock at the door came; it was Emhear, the leader of the Vates. Her voice was soft and delicate with concern. “I’m sorry to disturb you but I heard one of the servants has been found dead,” she said.  
  
Arthur inhaled with frustration. “You can’t keep anything quiet, can you?”  
  
Gwen addressed Emhear anxiously.  
  
“You did check all the men and women, who came into the castle yesterday to seek refuge, didn’t you?” she asked the sorceress.  
  
Emhear nodded, “With Emrys, yes.”  
  
A short pause as she realised what they were getting at.  
  
“I promise you that none of Mordred’s faction has been smuggled into the castle,” she quickly added. “I swear on my life.”  
  
Arthur nodded, “Then it must be unrelated. One of the citizens must be guilty...”  
  
Gwen turned to her brother.  
  
“Elyan,” she ordered him. “Show us where the dead guard is. When you have, take the guards and ensure everyone in the castle in confined to the Great Hall until further notice. This is still potentially a murder.”  
  
Like a knight rather than an elder brother, Elyan nodded in agreement at his sister’s order.  
  
Gwen then turned to Arthur, “I will come with you to see this dead man.”  
  
“And what about Awena?” he replied, speaking quietly as if he didn’t want Awena to ‘hear’ what was being said. “I know she’s a baby but—I don’t want her anywhere near a cadaver.”  
  
Emhear stepped forward, “With respect, your majesty, the queen has a level of medical knowledge that might help you identify what weapon was used to kill the man. From that you might be able to identify the murderer too.”  
  
Gwen looked down at Awena in her arms.  
  
The Vate bit her lips, foreseeing the simple dilemma the queen faced. She then smiled, “If it would please you both, I shall take care of the princess while you see to this matter.”  
  
Although Emhear had already proven herself to be a trusted friend, Gwen was still a little reluctant to let her daughter go. It was the fear of what might happen while she was gone that made her feel uneasy; what if this person who had attacked the servant attacked Emhear and Awena as well?  
  
Of course, Gwen knew deep down that Emhear could almost certainly protect Awena better than she could alone.  
  
“Very well,” the queen nodded slowly.  
  
She soothed Awena into near silence before she carefully passed her baby into the Vate’s arms. Emhear smiled softly at the child, and cooed over her to keep her comforted it. Awena turned her head against her chest, hoping for her mother’s milk.  
  
“I think you’ll find the cupboard is bare,” Emhear joked.  
  
Gwen smiled, “I just fed her. She’s being greedy.”  
  
Emhear cooed again, “Bless her little heart.”  
  
Arthur lingered by the door for his wife. “Guinevere,” he said soothingly.  
  
Very slowly, the queen turned to follow the king out of the room. She gave her daughter one last lingering look before the two of them walked off to follow Elyan.  
  
Emhear rocked Awena in her arms a few times before slowly walking back to the cradle to carefully put her back. “Bless you,” she whispered keenly. “Bless your good, sweet little heart...”  
  
  
*  
  
  
Merlin was searching through the many disused bedrooms and studies when Gwaine and Lancelot found him to show what they had found. He had managed to locate what he supposed was Morgause’s chambers as it was the only room to be well-maintained. All the others had moss, branches and cracks in the walls and ceilings. This room was clear and bright; the beds were dressed, the candles had been used recently and there were a few objects of interest.  
  
One of which was a bulla similar to the one Ganieda had given to Awena.  
  
 _So this must be Morgause’s,_ Merlin thought to himself.  
  
He was about to read the name on the charm when he heard Gwaine’s voice call out to him. “Merlin,” he said. “We’ve found something!” Distracted, the warlock placed the charm down again and hailed them.  
  
“I’ll be right there,” he replied.  
  
“No, we’ll come to you,” Gwaine said, revealing himself to be just outside the door. He opened it for Lancelot, who was carrying the two books and notes they had found, walk in before closing it behind him. “Find anything yourself?”  
  
Merlin looked around him. “I think this must be Morgause’s room as it’s the only room up here that doesn’t anything growing out of it. There are also a couple of papers and a bulla here but I don’t know if they’re significant. What did you find?”  
  
The two knights glanced at each other before looking their friend in the eye with a face of dire-seriousness. It immediately made the warlock nervous.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“We have found a few things,” Gwaine finally said. He placed the sheets of onto the table beside which they were standing and folded his arms. “But first we have to ask you an important question, and we need you to be honest because if what we think is right then... this might put a different spin on everything.”  
  
Merlin looked between them, wondering what he should think.  
  
Lancelot took a worried breath before saying, “Merlin, does Awena have magic?”  
  
Unable to stop himself, Merlin burst out laughing. “What? Of course not—why would she?”  
  
Lancelot passed the book containing handwritten notes to Gwaine who immediately and handed it to Merlin. He took them cautiously to flick through the pages. They all seemed to be about hereditary magic and the effects using magic at birth can have on people...  
  
“Gwaine and I have been giving all this a once over,” he explained as Merlin read. “It all belongs to Morgause. She talks about a lot of things but she definitely mentions Arthur, Gwen and Awena.”  
  
Merlin flicked the book from back to front. The further he came to the first pages, the more childish and disorganised Morgause’s handwriting became. It could only suggest one thing; that she had be working on this for years; from the looks of the first pages in the book, since she was about eight or nine.  
  
He looked up at Gwaine.  
  
He nodded, “Exactly. The earlier notes are written by a child yet she still talks about Arthur and the death of the queen.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” Merlin shrugged, handing the book back to him. “What has this to do with Awena having magic?”  
  
“Read the paragraphs on the last written page,” Gwaine told him, not taking the book.  
  
Merlin flicked back towards the end of the book for the final page. Upon finding the last page of notes, he read it out loud. _“It seems that the prophecies are true,”_ Merlin read on. _“If magic truly is hereditary then Arthur’s child will inherit the gift too—”_  
  
He looked up.  
  
“What?”  
  
Gwaine pointed to the book again, “Come on, Merlin! It’s as clear as day what Morgause is saying.”  
  
Merlin looked to Lancelot, who concluded the point:  
  
“Awena has magic.”  
  
  
*  
  
  
The king, queen and knight stood in a dimly lit corridor.  
  
“There’s no sign of a weapon,” Percival explained briefly. “Why would anyone want to kill a serving boy? He’d done no harm to anyone as far as I know.”  
  
His name was Patrick and he had never had a bad thought in his life.  
  
Gwen kneeled down to check the back of the man’s head. A trail of blood was poured over the floor, as if it were thick red wine. It did not take the queen long to find the fatal gash. She looked up at her husband who hovered overhead, dividing his attention between Percival and his wife. Elyan had gone t carry out Gwen’s orders so it was just the three of them.  
  
The queen nodded, “I’d say it was definitely the blow to the head that killed him.”  
  
Slowly, she turned him over to see the wound better.  
  
“It’s not a gash,” Gwen muttered, as she had first thought it was. “It’s odd... it’s like, the back of his head had been smashed. Yet it’s more damage than any man could possibly have done with a blunt object.”  
  
“So we can rule out the candlestick,” Arthur mumbled, and he looked up at Percival. “Did anyone else see anything?”  
  
He shook his head.  
  
“Have you checked for witnesses?”  
  
Percival shook his head again, “The Queen sent orders for everyone to be confined in the hall but the hall has been completely closed off. No one had wandered through there. The Druids, the Vates and the Bards would have noticed.”  
  
“Nonetheless you should look into it,” Arthur ordered.  
  
Percival nodded respectfully. “I will find Leon and get to it straight away, my lord.”  
  
He strode off, leaving the king and queen alone together. Arthur knelt beside his wife to have a look at the wound. With the amount of blood that had been lost it was understandable why people would have thought it could only have been caused by a gash from a sharp weapon.  
  
And no blunt weapon could have done this damage.  
  
“It is possible that the murder weapon is still in possession of the killer,” Arthur suggested.  
  
Gwen nodded, unconvinced.  
  
“It’s possible,” she conceded. “But that murder weapon would be covered in blood too. The amount that is here, I would wager they would have blood on themselves...”  
  
Arthur knew there was more on Gwen’s mind.  
  
“But?” he asked.  
  
Gwen looked to him, “I can’t see how anyone could have done this.”  
  
She sighed and stood up.  
  
“The trauma of the wound appears too... great,” she said slowly, and looked around the corridor. It was difficult to see anything. Although it was day time there were no windows around to brighten it up and make seeing around easier. “It’s almost as if someone picked up a huge brick and hurled it at him, smashing the back of his head out.”  
  
Arthur nodded slowly.  
  
Then a thought came to him.  
  
He shot up with a start.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Gwen asked.  
  
Arthur walked a little way down the corridor to fetch a removable candlelight from the wall and swiftly returned with it. “Do you have your firestone to hand?”  
  
Gwen always carried objects around in specially made pockets hidden inside her dresses and robes. She was at present wearing a very modest day-dress but nonetheless still carried tinderboxes around with her. It was one thing her father always said a person should carry with them; the ability to make fire.  
  
She pulled out the tinderbox with a small smile.  
  
Arthur pointed to the room opposite. “There is a fireplace in these chambers...”


	3. Chapter 3

_“But she can’t have magic!”_ Merlin cried, still struggling in painful confusion. “She’s Arthur and Gwen’s daughter and neither of them have ever displayed magical ability, so how can Awena possibly have inherited magic from Arthur when he has no magic to pass on?!”  
  
Gwaine cleared his throat.  
  
“What are you thinking?” Lancelot asked.  
  
The other knight sighed, “We all know how Arthur was born, don’t we? It was no ordinary birth. His father used magic to help his mother conceive a child. It is effectively magic that holds Arthur’s very being together...”  
  
“But the magic has never manifested itself,” Merlin pointed out, trying to understand what was obviously clear logic to Morgause from her notes. “Arthur can’t actually use magic.”  
  
“Moreover Awena was born like the rest of us,” Lancelot agreed, helping to put together the knowledge they had. “She was conceived naturally. If Awena had been born of magic like Arthur, then someone would have died; to create a life, a life must be given. A sacrifice would _have_ to have been made. That’s why his mother died in childbirth; she had to in order for Arthur to live.”  
  
Merlin finished the point himself:  
  
“That rule is paramount and cannot be overcome. You remember what Arthur said when he finally learned the truth about his mother,” he said. “He said he would rather live a childless life with Gwen than sacrifice her for an heir. He wouldn’t play dice with her life like that.”  
  
Gwaine silenced them both again, calling over all of them.  
  
“That’s not the point I was trying to make,” he told them all. He paused for a moment, denoting the seriousness of what he was saying. “Morgause knows that it is magic is the source of Arthur’s life... but what happens when a child of magic has a child of their own...?”  
  
Merlin stood silent, contemplating what his friend was saying. A terrible thought was slowly starting to dawn on him and he was ashamed that he had not thought of the possibility in the first place.  
  
“Surely nothing _special_ would happen, would it?” Lancelot asked.  
  
“Think about it,” Merlin said with dreading realisation. “The magic of life and death is one of the most powerful in existence. Only someone like Nimueh could possibly have managed it...”  
  
“And you,” Lancelot asked.  
  
Merlin said nothing, which indicated that what Lancelot asked was true. “Anyone else trying to mess with the forces of life and death would, I don’t know, _rip a hole in the fabric of reality_!”  
  
He took a deep breath.  
  
“The magic between the dead, the yet-to-live and the never-born is fragile at best,” Merlin said grievously. “Yet all that magic is right there inside Arthur. The reason it doesn’t manifest itself is because it is part of his being. Without it, he wouldn’t exist.”  
  
Merlin concluded his point.  
  
“But where did all that magic go when Arthur had a natural child of his own?”  
  
  
*  
  
  
Emhear had pulled up a chair to sit opposite the cradle so she could face Awena from the front. The baby began to make solemn little noises, once again appearing to sense a darkened mood. It interested the sorceress, who then gently reached forward to rock the cradle in a bid to comfort the baby.  
  
But she still made the sad little sounds.  
  
It was like she could feel her parent’s anxiety from where they were.  
  
“Hush, little one,” Emhear said soothingly. “There is nothing to be afraid of.”  
  
Just as she said this there came a small creak from outside the room.  
  
Startled, even by this small sound, Emhear stood up swiftly and shielded the cradle with genuine protectiveness. It still remained that a murderer was in the castle.  
  
With a swift moment of the head she locked all the doors with a simple enchantment. They all clicked loudly, creating a safe barrier for her and the baby.  
  
Then she slowly turned back to lean into the crandle.  
  
Awena’s large dark baby’s blue eyes stared up at her. She fell silent at the sight of this stranger.  
  
Emhear smiled, “I promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”  
  
The Vate glanced down at the bulla around her neck, facing ‘AWENA’ up.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Merlin was trying to be the voice of reason, but it was not working very well. The tragic irony was that Uther’s desire for an heir and his hatred of magic would eventually lead to him having a granddaughter with the gift. Then again the irony had already played out his production of a murderous witch of a daughter.  
  
“I always thought that magic was hereditary,” Lancelot said. “That to have it one or both your parents also had to have the gift. I mean, Merlin – your powers are hereditary, aren’t they?”  
  
Merlin bit his lip.  
  
“My father was a dragonlord,” he explained. “But my powers go beyond anything he had. I don’t know the true route of my powers... but I can definitely guess at Awena’s.”  
  
“Aren’t we jumping to conclusions?” Lancelot asked. “None of us have seen anything to suggest that Awena might have magic...”  
  
“That doesn’t matter,” Gwaine said seriously. “Morgause believes she does, and from the looks of things she has been waiting for a long time for this child’s potential birth.”  
  
Merlin’s mind wandered again over the things that had happened during the run up to Awena’s birth. As he did so, he muttered to himself and then moved onto the next point.  
  
“Gwen was worried the baby would have magic,” he whispered as the other knights spoke among themselves. He should never have ignored the instincts of a mother, but it wasn’t just her. “Even Arthur seemed worried about it being a possibility.”  
  
He thought of what he had said.  
  
 _“You don’t suppose it will affect her, do you?”_  
  
The warlock picked up the notebook again.  
  
“There’s one more thing that doesn’t make sense,” he said, ending his mutters. “Even if all of this is possible, even if Awena had inherited magic as a result of the circumstances of Arthur’s birth... why is Morgause so interested in her?”  
  
Gwaine and Lancelot exchanged glances.  
  
“Merlin,” Lancelot began slowly. “In your mind, if Awena had inherited magic from the power of life and death, just how powerful do you think she would be?”  
  
There was no reply to that. Merlin had an idea but there was no way of knowing if, or until, the magic began to present. And that could happen at any time. Even then he could not begin to guess what her actual gifts might be. His own powers had always been about controlling the environment around him, whether it was objects or slowing the passage of time. Merlin’s self-awareness and eyesight were faster than even other powerful sorcerers he had encountered. The only one who came close to matching him on every front was Mordred, yet no amount of power could trump the gifts of the dragonlord. Still, he knew that not all his powers were linked to being a dragonlord.  
  
He shook his head, “I don’t know.”  
  
He took a deep breath.  
  
“However, given the amount of power needed to harness the magic of life and death – even half of that power would be able to crush most sorcerers,” Merlin finished.  
  
Another stifling silence past between them.  
  
Lancelot nodded, “And you could expect Awena to have inherited at least a half of that power from Arthur, if it is true.”  
  
“There can’t be any doubt,” Gwaine said firmly. “Morgause wouldn’t have spent all this time waiting for nothing; she _knows_ it’s true.”  
  
Merlin glanced out the ruined panes that had once been a window in his abandoned castle. The others continued to talk amongst themselves.  
  
“So Morgause wishes to kill Awena in fear of what she will become?” Lancelot said, more of a statement than a question. It made sense that this would be her plan. She tried to kill Merlin every week. “In which case, we can assume she is still working with Morgana and Mordred...”  
  
Gwaine cleared his throat again; no one had noticed until this moment that he was holding the _Red Book_ in his hands.  
  
“I have another suggestion,” he said slowly.  
  
The other two men turned to look at him.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Once the fire was lit Gwen and Arthur wasted no time in lighting the candle with a splint. They then carefully carried it back into the corridor in an attempt to light up the shadows.  
  
“What are you thinking, Arthur?” the queen finally asked.  
  
He stared down at the candle, “You said it looked like someone had picked up a massive brick and hurled it at the back of this guard’s head?”  
  
Gwen nodded, “From a distance, yes.”  
  
“What sort of distance?”  
  
She sighed as she thought. “I’m not sure—maybe ten to fifteen feet?”  
  
Arthur held the candle aloft towards the ceiling. Its light glowed at the high ceiling. “Could it have been a vertical drop?”  
  
Gwen glanced up before shaking her head. “Then the wound would have been at the drop of his head, not the back. Besides,” and she pointed at the lack of support or balcony up there, “Unless we’re dealing with a giant stone-throwing spider, I don’t see how anyone could have attacked him from above.”  
  
Although it was not appropriate, the king could not help but smirk. “I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of a giant spider just yet.”  
  
He brought the candle down. It shone brightly upon the murder victim.  
  
The king nodded, “So it would have to have been an attack on floor-level?”  
  
“Yes,” Gwen said again. “Which leads me to ask again, what are you thinking?”  
  
“I’m thinking,” Arthur said, keeping hold of this rare moment of clarity. It was a rare thing when he was the one coming up with thoughts and ideas in these situations. “What if rather than having something thrown at him, he was thrown _against_ something?”  
  
“From fifteen feet—?”  
  
Gwen’s words were interrupted as Arthur moved closer towards the shadowy end of the corridor. It dawned her too what he was getting at.  
  
“How long would you say this corridor is, Guinevere?”  
  
“Between fifteen to twenty feet,” she replied in monotone.  
  
Arthur took another step closer to the wall and finally uncovered what he was looking for. It cause both him and his wife to recoil a little as there, splattered onto the once clean white wall, was a murky stain of blood and below it, a drag-trail leading to where the body was lying.  
  
He looked at her with serious eyes. “Usually people slam their backs against the wall and break their spines,” he said slowly. “That’s what kills them.”  
  
“But this man must have hit the wall head first.”  
  
Arthur blew the candle out. His blood was fired up with resolve.  
  
“This could only have been done with magic,” he concluded. “No man could hurl another against the wall that far and furiously. One of Mordred’s men must be in the castle...”  
  
  
*  
  
  
Gwaine finished reading and showed it to Merlin.  
  
“This is the passage that Ganieda quoted when she first appeared,” Gwaine explained, handing the book to Merlin. “After reading it again I realised what it was talking about.”  
  
‘There is a lion, a mortal king but great he be,  
Shall return from exile to reclaim his land  
And hope to terra firma, and set it free...’  
  
“The Lion returning from exile is Arthur, and I think it is talking of how overcame the immortal army, hence why so much is made of his mortality.”  
  
‘His sire failed and fell, for at his hand  
A fair lady of the grand played a victim  
To a double deception from old and him;  
She is the first victim of his terrible sin...’  
  
“Arthur’s birth,” Lancelot muttered.  
  
“That bit was obvious,” Merlin agreed. “It’s speaking of how Uther failed to bring freedom to the land because of the loss of Arthur’s mother Ygraine. ‘The first victim of his terrible sin,’ refers to the Great Purge. I suppose in many ways she _was_ the first victim.”  
  
Gwaine allowed them to digest this before he finished the passage:  
  
‘...she is the first victim of his terrible sin,  
For a lion cub that is solely our kin;  
The sacrificial lamb, the cause is thee...’  
  
“At first I thought this was talking about how Arthur was a child of magic, seeing as Ygraine was the ‘sacrificial lamb’ at his birth,” Gwaine said thoughtfully, and the other two muttered to confirm this. “But then I realised that the passage refers to this person as ‘a lion cub’, in other words the child of a lion...”  
  
Merlin snapped his head up, “Awena.”  
  
He thought for a moment.  
  
“If refers to Awena inheriting magic – solely out kin, the kin of magic – because of her grandmother’s death, because Uther used magic which Arthur had in turn passed on to his daughter!”  
  
He threw the book down and rubbed his head viciously.  
  
“Why didn’t I see that?”  
  
Lancelot cleared his throat and patted Merlin’s shoulder comfortingly. “It wasn’t exactly _obvious_ , Merlin.”  
  
Gwaine nodded in agreement.  
  
“So imagine this,” the knight said gruffly. “Morgause doesn’t want to kill Awena, but _use_ her. She’s done it before; taken people, corrupted them and fashioned them into weapons to suit her own desire for revenge. She tried to do it with Arthur, and she did do it with Morgana, Cenred—“  
  
“But why would Awena be a weapon?” Lancelot quizzed.  
  
There was a long pause where they each thought in silence.  
  
“If Awena is as a powerful as Morgause believes she could be,” Merlin finally said. “She could kill Mordred.”  
  
Another dreadful silence went by.  
  
“She could kill me,” he concluded.  
  
It was then that Merlin realised what this whole quest Ganieda had sent him on had been about. Right there was the answer he had been sent to gain. But that couldn’t be all!  
  
He stormed out of the room.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Emhear continued to lean over the cot, trying to comfort the princess.  
  
The moment her parents laid eyes on the blood staining the walls and floors in the shadowy corridor, Awena started to fuss again. Just a baby and unable to understand the feelings she was having. She was not to know that other babies never experienced this. That she was unique.  
  
To Awena, the world was no bigger than her cradle.  
  
She opened her eyes to look Emhear in the eyes.  
  
Slowly, the Vate lifted her from the cradle again.  
  
“Come here, little one,” she whispered sweetly. “Let me have a good look at you...”  
  
  
*  
  
  
“Where’re you going?” Lancelot called after Merlin.  
  
In sheer confusion Merlin was opening all the doors to the abandoned castle to see whether there was anything interesting he had missed. Each room still looked as ruined as the last.  
  
“Merlin,” Gwaine spoke hurriedly. “If Awena has such powerful magic then what could her ability be?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Merlin muttered in anger. “Who says it has to be anything? All we need to know is that it is powerful.”  
  
“But the magic of life and death,” Lancelot called from behind the two of them. “What if it has something to do with that?”  
  
Merlin turned around.  
  
“Like what?”  
  
The two knights stopped to catch their breaths as chasing Merlin through a ruined castle had proved more tiring than they had thought. Lancelot finally made his point, “Morgause wants to use Awena to kill people she herself is not powerful enough to stop. What if she thinks the magic can be used to bring people back to life?”  
  
Merlin turned to open another door.  
  
“But why...?”  
  
The moment the hinges swung outward, a body fell through onto the floor.  
  
  
*  
  
  
“What if it’s not one of Mordred’s men?” Gwen suddenly said, remaining still and still staring at the blood on the walls. Behind her she could hear Arthur stop and turned around to listen to her. “If it was him, or one of his men, they would have killed a lot more than this one servant.”  
  
He slowly walked back up to her.  
  
“So why would anyone kill one innocent man so violently?” she finished.  
  
  
*  
  
  
The Vate slowly reached into her pocket.  
  
She pulled out a small, dead bird.  
  
Awena’s face scrunched up but she did not cry.  
  
Slowly Emhear laid the dead avian across Awena’s chest. Then she licked a blood stain from the creature on the tip of her finger and brushed it gently against the princess’s forehead, leaving a small mark.  
  
She rocked the baby steadily...  
  
Emhear smiled down at the tart face of little Awena.  
  
She was about to invoke magic she was not yet certain was inside the child. But holding her now and feeling the magic bond that many sorcerers felt, she was certain it _was_ there.  
  
Despite being a tiny child, the power inside her stifling.  
  
  
*  
  
  
“ _Dôn*_ below!” Lancelot cursed.  
  
Gwaine lurched forward to analyse the body. It was wrapped up in a black shawl. Its hands had been bound behind the back and, as the knight slowly un-hooded the face and turned it towards them, it appeared to have been gagged as well...  
  
“Who is it?” Merlin asked.  
  
  
*  
  
  
“Unless they killed him for a reason...” the queen went on.  
  
“What reason could there be to kill a bystander?”  
  
  
*  
  
  
Gwaine removed the gag from the corpse’s mouth and showed the face to Merlin and Lancelot. They both gasped in disbelief, confusion and realisation as the cold, dead eyes of the victim started blankly back at them.  
  
“Emhear,” Merlin said slowly.  
  
“Emhear,” Lancelot echoed. “The leader of the Vates... but how can she be here?”  
  
The other knight stood up and walked to stand beside his two friends. “She’s completely cold,” Gwaine told them both. “She’s been dead for at least two days.”  
  
“But how is that possible?” Lancelot asked rightly. “We saw her just one day ago.”  
  
Merlin knelt grimly beside the dead Vate leader. It was now he realised his mistake. _This_ was what Ganieda had wanted him to find. This is what _Morgause_ wanted him to find. To find, and to realise...  
  
“That wasn’t Emhear,” the warlock grimaced. “This dead body, she is the real Emhear. Didn’t she mention before left that she had visited Morgause?”  
  
Gwaine nodded, “Visited her, but never came back...”  
  
Merlin placed his hand on her forehead.  
  
Even though she was fully expired he felt he heard a tiny cry from inside Emhear’s head.  
  
Her last thought.  
  
 _‘The child!’_ it said, _‘The child...what is she?’_  
  
  
*  
  
  
‘Emhear’ started to hum a lullaby.  
  
A shine came across Awena’s eyes and it reflected in the witch’s.  
  
“Let me help you,” the witch whispered softly. “Let me bring forth your gift.”  
  
She took hold of Awena’s tiny hand and forced it to touch the bird.  
  
A tiny white spark passed between them.  
  
It that second, the bird sprang to life. Its head literally _snapped_ back into place, it pulled itself up from where it was lying on top of the princess and spread its wings to fly.  
  
Awena stared fixated with her creation.  
  
It squawked and took off. It perched itself up above the cradle.  
  
Morgause smirked with achievement. It was just a bird, not a human. Yet it was like nothing she had ever seen before. Awena could maintain expired life. If her studies were correct, given time, Awena could kill or save whoever she chose. The power of life and death would literally be at her command. No cup, no sacrifices or overstated rituals. Just her fingertips and her mind.  
  
She smiled down at the silent, almost perplexed child.  
  
Slowly she started to sing another lullaby, one with a spell hidden beneath it.  
  
  
*  
  
  
The king comfortingly stroked the back of his queen’s neck. She slowly eased against it, briefly taking comfort in it. Then she braced stiffly, suddenly.  
  
“Guinevere?” Arthur asked questioningly.  
  
A jolt shot through Gwen’s mind.  
  
An instinct deep inside her called out.  
  
“Awena!” she gasped.  
  
Gwen sprang up and ran off down the corridor again, beckoning Arthur to follow her.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Merlin closed Emhear’s eyes again and back away from her.  
  
The three men continued to stare down at her.  
  
“Emhear is dead and Morgause is the only one who could have done it,” Merlin said conclusively. “And is there in Camelot right now; we must return immediately!”  
  
He held out his hands for the other two to take.  
  
Magic was the fastest way to get home...  
  
  
*  
  
  
 _“...cume forthweg, lufubearn.”_  
  
  
*  
  
  
By the time they had finally managed to unlock the doors to the royal chambers, it was too late. The room was empty. The windows were closed. There was no sign of escape... yet Awena and the woman they thought had been the leader of the Vates were gone.  
  
All that was left behind was an empty cradle.  
  
With a dead bird lying in it.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Merlin rushed ahead of Gwaine and Lancelot was they materialised in the courtyard.  
  
He ran as fast as he could through the castle, calling out to everyone, anyone, who would listen. It did not even occur to him that the magical barrier was down and the people of Camelot were walking solemnly around the castle and the square, already aware of what had happened.  
  
Yet he pressed on regardless. As if somehow his words could turn back time.  
  
“Gwen,” Merlin called, “Arthur – it’s not Emhear! It’s Morgause. She killed her and stole her form!”  
  
He finally reached the Great Hall where everyone else was assembled; the knights, the guards, the nobility, the foreign royalty and, at the very end, the king and queen in comforting embrace.  
  
Sorrow burst from Merlin’s heart.  
  
“Awena,” he said to himself.  
  
Elyan stoically came forward a nodded, doing well to hide his own despair at the loss of his niece. “Yes,” he said slowly. “We know.”  
  
Gwaine and Lancelot appeared at the door. Their gasps for breath immediately became subdued as they realised they were too late. All they could do was exchange guilty looks with Elyan, Leon and Percival. The latter two patted the two men on the back and began to tell them what happened.  
  
Merlin did not stay to listen as he followed Elyan past the bewildered Vates, Druids and Bards. Iseldir was questioning the young women who had come with ‘Emhear’, demanding to know whether they suspected anything about their mistress. Many of them were in tears, some weeping hysterically. It was partly for the princess but mostly at the realisation that the real Emhear must be dead. “We didn’t suspect anything,” cried one girl. “We should have realised,” sobbed another. “We should have protected her...”  
  
The Bards were being as useless as ever. Nuada stood with a blank look on his face, watching Merlin walk by.  
  
He finally reached the elevated thrones where Arthur and Gwen stood.  
  
Gwen had laid her head against Arthur’s shoulder. She was not crying but instead her expression was completely drained, as if all strength had been sucked from it – even her ability to shred tears. As could be expected, Arthur was trying to remain as impassive as possible. Yet Merlin could feel the pain bubbling underneath.  
  
“She took her,” Gwen uttered mournfully. “She was here the whole time, and she took my daughter away...”  
  
Merlin was at a loss for words.  
  
“Now we have no idea where Awena is,” she went on, biting her lips. The tears were finally starting to be released from her eyes. “Mordred could find her—Morgause could be in league with him—and we have no way of protecting her...”  
  
The warlock stepped forward.  
  
“I am...” he began, swallowed the lump in his throat, and went on, “Gwen, Arthur... I am so, so sorry.”  
  
Gwen gave him a look that she had never given him before. It was not accusing, or angry or even devastated. It was at a loss for a reaction. Her tears were finally starting to fall but she seemed completely unaware of it. Her eyes stared at him, unblinking.  
  
Arthur glanced at Merlin. “It’s not your fault.”  
  
It felt like his fault. Merlin knew it probably was his fault as he had sworn to protect Awena but had failed. He should have been able to second guess Morgause. He spent so much time focusing on Mordred and Morgana that he had completely forgotten about her. Then when he finally did consider her motives, he fails to sense that she was right there in Camelot, hiding beneath the skin of one of their allies.  
  
Iseldir stepped forward.  
  
“Emrys,” he said quietly.  
  
He wanted to call him away from the king and queen to speak with him privately. The warlock nodded and walked over to address him properly.  
  
“My nephew Galahad wishes to tell you something,” the Druid leader explained.  
  
Galahad had been lurking behind the other druids, but came forward at the mention of his name. Merlin looked down at the boy and waited for what he had to say. He remembered what he had told him before he left... but it still didn’t make sense.  
  
“Emrys,” the boy said shakily. “There is still a chance to find her. Morgause has sworn hatred on Mordred, and that alone should keep her from harming the princess.”  
  
Merlin did not move.  
  
“Forgive me if I do not count on that,” he whispered darkly. “Even if what you say is true, it is just as possible that from fear of Mordred and Morgana killing Awena – this baby who she only wants for utterly selfish reasons – that she will take her aboard, and out of our reach.”  
  
He looked up to Iseldir.  
  
“It’s too late,” Merlin uttered. “And it’s my fault...”  
  
“You’re giving up?” said Gwaine, over hearing the conversation. “The Merlin I know would never do that.”  
  
Merlin turned to face him. “Well if you have any _bright_ ideas, let me know.”  
  
Gwaine rolled his eyes as Lancelot and Percival came up either side of him. Merlin turned away to look over at Arthur and Gwen, who looked at their friend in disappointment. Then he felt ashamed to have let his own sorrow deflect theirs, which couldn’t be anything other than the greatest of all.  
  
Their little girl was lost...and no one knew where to search first.  
  
A glowing flash of light suddenly erupted in the middle of the hall, accompanied by a gust of wind. Everyone stood with bated breath, prepared for the worst to appear out of that glow. As Merlin turned to look at it too he saw that it seemed to open like a door, as if the air around it was a wall.  
  
It then faded away with a sudden bout, leaving behind the occupant of that power.  
  
It was Ganieda.  
  
She smiled sympathetically to Merlin and said, “Was my advice helpful?”  
  
A cruel silence fell over the room. Some people blamed her as much as they blamed Morgause. This was certainly Lancelot’s attitude and Leon’s too as both drew swords. It took Gwaine and Percival to force them to put their weapons down. Others in the room wondered why this girl had returned and why hadn’t warned them that Emhear was really Morgause.  
  
That was the question forefront in Merlin’s mind.  
  
He strode towards her.  
  
“Helpful?” Merlin said emotionally, feeling a part of him die with every step he took. “You led me away from Camelot. If you hadn’t come here in the first place, Morgause wouldn’t have been able to take Awena. What the hell makes you think you have a right to meddle with the past?”  
  
Ganieda remained composed.  
  
“I told you how to defend yourself against Mordred,” she said compassionately. “He won’t attack now because she’s not here.”  
  
“And instead in the care of a sociopath,” Merlin retorted.  
  
“I prevented Mordred and Morgana from killing Awena,” Ganieda told him. “But I couldn’t have stopped Morgause from taking her.”  
  
Merlin turned away from her. “I could have a found way...” he muttered coldly.  
  
“Just as you always do,” Ganieda said, with a hint of accusation and even sarcasm. It was very brave, as great sorcerers had met their ends by provoking Merlin with such taunts.  
  
He spun around to look at her.  
  
Ganieda ignored him and looked to the king and queen.  
  
“I know you both must hate me,” she said softly. They braced themselves against each other, as if her words had somehow left them exposed to more danger. Not that they could possibly care right now. Nothing worse could possibly happen _now_. “But wait a while because I will help put things right.”  
  
Merlin approached her again. “You think it was good this all happened?”  
  
“Isn’t it,” Ganieda said, more like a statement than a question, “Awena is safer hidden away from you than she ever was here in Camelot.”  
  
“With someone who has nothing but hatred for Camelot?”  
  
“Morgause hated Uther,” Ganieda corrected him. “She hates you. Camelot just happens to be the place you both called home. Isn’t that really what you fear, Merlin?”  
  
He stared at her.  
  
“What do I fear?”  
  
“That you are right,” she replied. “That Awena will be as powerful a sorceress as you believe she will be. You fear that Morgause will hoodwink her against you. And rather than using that power to fight for Camelot – to you the side of good – she will aid your enemies – the side of evil – against you.”  
  
She stepped closer to him. Her face was softly serious.  
  
“But it is so easy to forget that one person’s evil is another’s good,” Ganieda went on. “As far as Morgause is concerned, the great Emrys is just as bad as Mordred and Morgana. You’re not all that different, are you?”  
  
No one was quite sure what Ganieda meant by that last bit. Was she herself Merlin to Mordred and Morgana, or to Morgause? Either way the confusion kept everyone nice and quiet for Ganieda to keep talking. The silence unnerved Merlin a little as he could feel one or two people, even amongst his friends, agree with either meaning of her statement.  
  
“She was obsessed with prophecies too. You saw it yourself at her castle. Instead of trying to uphold them she spent most of her life actively trying to defy them,” Ganieda sighed; knowing against this was a subject close to Merlin’s heart. “But she failed. She couldn’t even keep control of Morgana. In the end she turned to prophecies for an answer and found one, in the form of a little child. A child who is said to be powerful enough to kill all three of you, the daughter of a child of magic...”  
  
Merlin turned away from her again, unable to take this.  
  
“So she has stolen Awena,” Ganieda continued, “who is such a child. And Morgause intends to turn her into a weapon to destroy you... and all this, Merlin, because of a _prophecy_ , which need not have ever come true.”  
  
The gravity of what this young woman was saying startled everyone to the core. She was affectively saying that the nature of prophecy was a flux made real simply by obsession. It was just as Arthur had said to Guinevere earlier, the self-fulfilling prophecy. If anything what Ganieda was saying was that to defy or seek out a prophecy could put the future in danger; and it was better convince yourself you are no governed by them. But even doing that was very hard.  
  
Moreover the idea of Awena being raised to murder Merlin was a haunting thought.  
  
Yet he was not disturbed by them or by anything else Ganieda had said. He had been shaken, offended and in denial about them... but he was not disturbed. In fact, he disregarded everything she had just said, because it did not answer the questions he really had.  
  
He put them forward now.  
  
He walked closer to her despite knowing what was incorporeal and could not be touched. Then, when he was finally face to face with her, he realised instinctively something was different. Ganieda was slightly older than she was before. Moreover, something else was different...  
  
Merlin reached out to touch her.  
  
He felt the warmth of her deep red robes.  
  
Ganieda smiled, “It’s only been two day for you. For me, it’s been two years.”  
  
“You were just a ghost before,” Merlin said in awe.  
  
“It takes the most powerful magic in existence to open a gateway between times,” she explained with a smile. “It took me a long time to master it although I cannot maintain it very long. If I try to stay longer than it will let me, the walls of reality will collapse.”  
  
The warlock removed his hand and stared into her dark eyes. They seemed so earnest yet they hid so much knowledge.  
  
“Who are you?” Merlin asked. “Why do you care about any of this?”  
  
Ganieda continued to smile. She reached into her robe and pulled out her own bulla. There, she held the precious charm in one palm as she took Merlin’s hand with the other. “I don’t need to tell you who I am, Merlin,” she assured him, finally using his real name. “Haven’t you realised yet?”  
  
A silence fell over the room as Merlin regarded the mysterious girl. In his anger he had forgotten briefly about the feeling of familiarity he had with her. It became even greater now she was holding his hand. A spark of powerful energy passed between them. It was unlike anything he had felt before yet one he felt he knew.  
  
Then he looked at her other hand, which held the tip of the bulla between two fingers. It was the usual thing anyone could expect from a bulla of the Old Religion. It looked like Awena’s and many others worn in the room. It even bore Ganieda’s name on it.  
  
Galahad’s words then came to mind. ‘Her original name was Anna.’  
  
He stared another three seconds at Ganieda’s fingers before he realised what he was looking at. It was as clear as day. It was staring him right in the face, and it had been the whole time.  
  
He slowly looked up at Ganieda, seeing her for the first time.  
  
She smiled knowingly, delighted to have finally made him understand. And the knowledge thrilled him to the core.  
  
Despite the sombre tone of the rest of the room still thick in the air, Merlin suddenly seemed to light everything up with joy.  
  
“Hello... Ganieda,” he grinned.  
  
“Hello, Emrys.”  
  
They stared into each other’s eyes for half a second before they both burst out into laughter. Every eye in the room was noticeably offended and confused by Merlin’s sudden change. But he did not see any of it. All he did see was the look of perplexity on the king and queen’s faces, yet he did not linger on them too long he was so enraptured with Ganieda’s delightful face. He felt he knew it so well.  
  
“But that means – _that is_ – you know?” Merlin asked.  
  
Ganieda nodded, “Obviously.”  
  
He smirked, “So does that mean—?”  
  
“ _Yes_ ,” she said simply.  
  
Merlin felt filled with a new lease of life, so great and so hopeful, that he instantly spun around to address Arthur and Gwen. They did not know what to make of any of this. They were so trapped in their guilt and grief that they suddenly felt as if they had slipped into another universe when they saw Merlin smile.  
  
“Arthur, Gwen, I’m going to find your daughter,” Merlin announced with great delight. “Morgause won’t harm her and _on my life_ I will bring her back to you.”  
  
He turned to Ganieda and whispered, “You’d better fill them in yourself.”  
  
Then with lightening speed he rushed to the end of the hall to leave the castle, leave Camelot on his seemingly impossible quest. A task he had just said was too late to venture on. Yet after speaking to Ganieda for five minutes, all that doubt had disappeared.  
  
However, the queen’s had not.  
  
She rushed forward but Merlin was too quick for her. “Wait!” she cried desperately. “What do you, Merlin?”  
  
He turned one last time to face everyone in the hall. He focused on Gwen and Arthur, who stood behind her. But nothing was said and he disappeared in a blaze of his own power which winded up all around them until he was no longer there.  
  
The silence that followed left Gwen not assured but all the more empty.  
  
Arthur placed his hands on Gwen’s shoulders. She weakly leant against him for a moment, but then caught sight of Ganieda out of the corner of her eye.  
  
Suddenly, she found her strength again and advanced on the girl.  
  
“Where is he going?” Gwen demanded, her voice shaking with emotion. “What did he tell you? What did you tell _him_?”  
  
Ganieda turned to face the king and queen.  
  
“Your majesties,” she said calmly. “You must listen to me.”  
  
Without a second thought Gwen pulled Arthur’s sword from his own sheaf and pointed it menacingly at the young sorceress.  
  
“What did you tell Merlin?” she demanded again.  
  
Arthur’s emotions were running high too but he managed to keep his head together enough to gently restrain his wife, “Guinevere, you have to calm down...”  
  
The sorceress looked between the two of them.  
  
Ganieda stood coolly, waiting for Arthur take hold of the queen’s shoulders and whisper comfortingly into her ear. The sword in her clutches lowered slightly but even her husband’s words could wrench it from her hands.  
  
Once the pair of them had approached her, slowly, she began to explain.  
  
“I can’t stay much longer,” Ganieda warned. “It takes a lot of power in order to pass through time lines, so I will have to leave soon...”  
  
“You said you come from the future,” Gwen said coldly, her eyes still damp from a mother’s tears. “You knew this was going to happen but you couldn’t stop it – then why come in the first place?”  
  
Ganieda took a moment to reply.  
  
“To bring you some comfort,” she finally said.  
  
Gwen’s only reaction was to laugh hysterically. Then the sword was raised again. “Well,” she growled in sorrow, “you failed at that!”  
  
The king took hold of her wrists again to lower the sword.  
  
Ganieda went on, “ _This_ will bring you some comfort, I promise you.”  
  
Slowly, she lowered her hood to reveal her light-brown waves of hair and reached under her clothes to reveal her own bulla. It was crafted in exactly the same way as Awena’s had been, in the true fashion of the Old Religion. Likewise there were charms attached to it too.  
  
Ganieda removed the bulla and placed it into the palm of her hands to show the king and queen. The facing side had her name ‘GANIEDA’ written in the magical runes. “This is my bulla,” she said, explaining the obvious first. “Like your daughter’s it bears my birth name, and the name given to me by the priesthood.”  
  
Gwen scowled, “What has this to do with my daughter?”  
  
The young woman bit her lips.  
  
“A child would never keep their birth name once they were taken by the high priestesses,” Ganieda explained soothingly, undisturbed by the queen’s anger. “None of us do, including Morgause. Her original name was ‘Anna’.”  
  
A faint wind started to pick up around Ganieda. It took Arthur and Gwen a moment to realise that the breeze was not coming from either side of them but seeping from her own skin like she was the source of breath and that every breath she took made the wind stronger.  
  
Ganieda looked around her and sighed.  
  
“I’m running out of time,” she said quickly, and taking hold of Guinevere’s hand she transferred the bulla from her palm into the queen’s.  
  
“It will fade with me soon after I go,” Ganieda warned them quickly. “The past and the future cannot co-exist, even in regards to objects. Please, look at it!”  
  
Arthur and Gwen both looked down at the name ‘GANIEDA’ staring up at them  
  
They then looked up to see that Ganieda was in fact starting to fade. She smiled to them both, “It’s alright, I’m returning to my own time.”  
  
The wind became strong and a bright, white light seemed to slowly cover the whole of Ganieda’s body. Before she disappeared, she left them both with these final words:  
  
“Morgause will not harm your daughter and Merlin will find her,” echoed her voice across the hall. “And you needn’t worry about her gift because he will do everything he can to help her. No matter what happens she will always use her magic as a force for good. I can promise you that.”  
  
As the bright light began to fade away and take Ganieda away with it, the king and queen looked down at the bulla again. In a spark of realisation, Arthur reached gently into his wife’s palm to see the charms closer. The three charms of the Druids, the Vates and the Bards were there – but that was likely a tradition that all children accepted by the priesthood received.  
  
He then turned the golden tag that read ‘GANIEDA’ over to see the other side.  
  
In that moment all of Arthur’s hopes and fears seemed to be right there before him in Gwen’s hand; staring both of them in the fact with a look dull, twenty-one year aged dread. All the pain, all the waiting and all the hardship before them was represented in this very bulla... as was the great feeling that Ganieda had left them with both joy and sorrow.  
  
‘AWENA’  
  
The queen closed her palm weakly. Crushed with emotion, she slumped against her husband while he held her tight for support. Then as if standing on the edge of limbo they stared at the spot where Ganieda had just been standing and tried not to cry.  
  
Slowly, the bulla too faded away...

**Author's Note:**

> [My Old English is very limited and I am no good at the Anglo-Saxon form. However I do understand the words and, if you don’t have The Cambridge Old English Reader to hand, all the translations have been described as they appear below. I have tried to replace all the accents and that ‘þ’ have become phonetically ‘th’ sounds.]
> 
> awena: From the Old Welsh word ‘awen’ meaning “muse”, “poetry” or “prayer”. It is usually associated with the type of poetry the Bards used to write.  
> beorht: “bright”  
> blod: “blood”  
> braegen: “brain”, used here to refer to the mind.  
> brytencwen: ‘bryten’ meaning “British, or of Briton” and ‘cwen’ meaning “queen”.  
> cume: “come”  
> cymth: “comes”  
> faegersawol: ‘faegers’ meaning “beautiful” and ‘sawol’ meaning “soul”.  
> forthweg: “forwards”  
> fram: “from”  
> god: “good”  
> heo: “she”  
> heorte: “heart”  
> hire: “her”  
> lufubearn: ‘lufu’ meaning “love, lovely or loved” and ‘bearn’ meaning “child”.  
> mann: “people” or “humans”  
> réodbóc: ‘réod’ meaning “red” and ‘bóc’ meaning “book”.  
> sothsegen: ‘soþ’ meaning “truth” and ‘segen’ meaning “statement, or story”.  
> spraec: “speech”  
> sy: “is”  
> tha: “that”  
> thohts: “thoughts”  
> to: “to”  
> tunge: “tongue” or “language”  
> us: “us”
> 
> (*) A bulla was a protective charm worn by Roman children until they were considered adults. For boys this was when they officially had their coming of age ceremony and for girls it was when they married.
> 
> (*) Dôn was the Welsh name for the Mother Goddess.


End file.
